Poezja

Precious heart, touched
by the liquid pool
of emotion. Submerged
under the quiet,
rumbling belly of Truth,
my solace is stripped
nude in the dark. Abyss
stretches endless before my worn and weary shoes.
They are ripped at the souls,
tattered at the heels.
Still
I walk
through the drying mud.
It’s a long road
before I reach that steady
haven, where
I can finally shake off the dust.